Finding Fernando
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: A former high-school classmate of Leslie's asks to find an old friend who turns out to be in trouble. Follows 'Ultimate Reckoning'.
1. Chapter 1

§ § § -- March 26, 1992

Bearing a stack of packages related to one of the weekend's fantasies, Leslie turned from the counter at the post office and braced her chin on the topmost parcel to hold the stack in place, only to find herself face-to-face with a grinning Myeko Tokita. "Long time no see, stranger," Myeko greeted her. "I can see Mr. Roarke's keeping you busy."

Leslie grinned back. "As always, but you know I love it. You look great!"

Myeko rolled her eyes. "Everyone keeps telling me that, but I'm not too convinced. I guess I must look better than I feel—and I feel like a house right now." Myeko was pregnant and so close to her due date now that her friends were expecting to get a call anytime.

"Well, you're 'housing' that baby," Leslie punned, unable to resist.

Myeko playfully swatted her arm, rolling her eyes again. "Yuck, that really stunk. Hey, I finally got to see Camille the other day. She had David and the quads with her—I don't know if you know she's been keeping them at her house ever since her mom started working at the casino—and she told me you had to fight your birth father's ghost a little while back. I guess it must have gone okay." Camille's mother had given birth to quadruplets within months of Leslie's initial arrival on Fantasy Island; they were now in junior high school. Their birth had precipitated a global media circus not just because they were Fantasy Island's first quads, but also because they were an extreme rarity—two sets of identical twins, one set boys and the other girls.

Leslie shrugged. "Well, we succeeded, let me put it that way. It was a real ordeal for me. Did she tell you how she gave me the rudest awakening I think I've ever had?"

"Yup," said Myeko. "Typical Camille actually. And here we thought she'd mellowed out on us."

"Luckily for me, no," Leslie admitted. "I kind of needed to hear what she had to say. But you know, the funny thing is, something wonderful came out of it. I always called Mr. Roarke by his name, even though I'm his daughter. When he helped me dispatch Michael Hamilton's ghost to its just deserts, though, he called back my mother's spirit to help me out, and I think she was the one who put the idea in my head. I'd never really thought of it before, but it seemed right. Now I call him 'Father', because he really is."

"Wow," said Myeko, impressed. "And he doesn't mind?"

Leslie's eyes were wide with remembered amazement. "Mind? He was thrilled! I couldn't get over it. I spent my first few years on the island being only his ward, and by the time he formally adopted me, I was so used to calling him 'Mr. Roarke' that I just went on doing it. But since he stepped into the role that Michael Hamilton so willingly rejected, it seemed only right to start addressing him as my father. And you know something, it feels great. I feel like I belong to a family again."

Myeko grinned benevolently. "Well, good for you! Now, have you decided if you're gonna start calling yourself Leslie Roarke, or what?"

Leslie giggled. "Actually, Father said it didn't matter to him whether I used his name or my birth name. He did say that since 'Hamilton' was the name my mother used, though, I might want to retain it just to keep that connection with her. I've been thinking about hyphenating it. What do you think?" Her eyes twinkled.

Myeko made an exaggerated show of considering this, resting one elbow in the other hand and cradling her chin, peering at the ceiling. "Hmm. _Hmm._ Let's see how that might come out." She drew her spine straight, dropped her hands, lifted her nose in the air and cleared her throat, affecting a decidedly bad British accent. "My lady Hamilton-Roarke, the Rolls awaits you under the portico."

Both girls burst out laughing, catching the attention of some natives and a couple of visiting tourists picking up mail. "Yeah," Leslie said, "it sounds pretty 'upper-crust snob' to me too. Oh well. I hate to cut this short, but I've got to get back—Father's waiting for these packages. Now exactly when are you due again?"

"Tomorrow," Myeko said, "but there's no telling if Junior here'll stick to the schedule. Don't worry, I promise I'll call you. Now get going before your dad decides to ground you." She smirked teasingly, and Leslie left the post office still laughing.

At the main house, Roarke laughed in his turn when he saw her come inside with the stack of parcels still braced under her chin. "I didn't realize there were so many. Why don't you put them here on the desk, and tell me if you recognize this name." He displayed a pale-pink envelope at her.

Curious, she set the stack on the corner of the desk and accepted the envelope, which bore her name and a local postmark. The name atop the return address was Tabitha Zuma. Leslie shook her head. "No, I don't, not right offhand anyway. I wonder what this is." She picked up a letter opener and slit the envelope, withdrawing a notecard that had a print of a pastel-colored landscape on the front. Before she could open it, a check slid out of the card and fell to the floor. "Oops." Flipping open the card and reading it, she stooped and picked up the check.

After a moment she looked up at Roarke. "She'd like us to grant her a fantasy. The check's for…" She examined it and concluded, "Five hundred dollars."

Roarke nodded. "I see. Does she explain what the fantasy is?"

"She's hoping we can find someone for her, somebody named Fernando Ordoñez. She says she'll tell us the full story if we accept her request."

"Fernando Ordoñez," murmured Roarke thoughtfully, giving the name its proper Spanish pronunciation, even down to the gently-rolled R in both names. Leslie smiled, a little envious; try as she might, she could never figure out how to roll her R's. "Well," Roarke continued, "I don't think that will be difficult. It's not a common name. Very well, Leslie, please find an open weekend in the date book and schedule her fantasy, and send her a return note. I have an appointment, so I must be on my way. I believe it's going to be fairly quiet today, so if you would, please go through the mail and open those packages."

"Will do. See you at lunch," she said and watched him leave before paging through the date book and searching for an open time slot. There wasn't one for another month, and that only because of a cancellation. She printed the name _Tabitha Zuma_ in the open space for the weekend beginning April 25, and eyed the card again, wondering why the name had begun to sound strangely familiar. Maybe her friends would know.

Once she had gotten the acceptance letter for Tabitha Zuma ready to send, she made a few phone calls to her friends, asking them if they remembered anyone with that name. However, it wasn't till she had called Arcolos and gotten through to the recently-crowned Princess Michiko that she finally got an affirmative answer. "Oh, I remember her," Michiko exclaimed after a few minutes of catch-up chatting. "She was in the choir in high school, but she always sang in the background with the chorus. She always came and went alone, and I rarely saw her anywhere else. So she asked you and Mr. Roarke for a fantasy?"

"Yes, her letter came just today," said Leslie. "It's nothing spectacular; she just wants us to find someone for her. You were the only one who remembered her—none of the other girls had a clue who she was, and unfortunately, I didn't either, to tell the truth."

"I'm not really surprised," Michiko said. "She was very shy, and whenever someone spoke to her she always turned beet red. She herself didn't say much. I'm surprised she was even in the choir. She did such a good job of blending into the background that I can't even remember ever hearing her sing."

"Wow!" said Leslie in surprise. "This should be a very interesting fantasy. Thanks, Michiko. Or should I call you 'Your Highness' now?"

"Don't you dare," Michiko warned laughingly, "or the next time I come back home for a visit I'll start shouting 'off with her head!' at you. I'm glad you called, Leslie—I miss talking with you and the other girls. Call anytime. Give the girls my private number here and tell them to make sure they call collect. That way they might be more inclined to do it."

Leslie giggled. "I'll pass on the message. Thanks for the info, Michiko."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- April 25, 1992

It was just as well that their second guest was local, because the fantasizers who had disembarked at the plane dock had been an entire family of about a dozen cousins whose fantasy was to go back to meet their common ancestor, a great-great-grandmother who had immigrated from a little town in Greece. They'd taken up all the space on the charter and had completely run through the native girls' stock of leis and drinks. Roarke and Leslie had to take them to the covered bridge some little distance off the Old Swamp Road in order to dispatch them into their fantasy all at the same time.

"What a boisterous bunch," Leslie observed laughingly on their way back to the main house. "I sure hope they have a good time."

"Oh, I think they will," Roarke said, with that mysterious look he so often got in the early stages of a fantasy. "With, of course, the usual surprise along the way."

When he didn't elaborate, she pretended exasperation. "Did you always used to keep Tattoo in this kind of suspense?" she asked.

"Of course," Roarke replied as if it went without saying. "If I hadn't, he would have become quite jaded."

Leslie snickered. "Oh, sure," she scoffed cheerfully. Roarke grinned back.

"Let's see if our other guest is awaiting us," he said, turning the corner onto the Main House Lane. "I understand you have been particularly curious about her fantasy."

"Incredibly," Leslie said. "Michiko remembered her from choir in high school, but none of the other girls did. I can't quite figure out how she knew me though."

"I should think that would be obvious," remarked Roarke, parking the car next to the fountain and silencing the engine.

Leslie laughed. "I don't mean like that, Father. If she knew me only for being your daughter and assistant, then she wouldn't have addressed her letter to me, any more than any other fantasizer does. There must be some reason she did it, and I can't wait to find out what it is."

"Then shall we go in and find out?" Roarke invited whimsically, and she grinned back at him before they both stepped out of the car and made their way up the walk and across the veranda to the front door.

A slender young woman stood uncertainly in the middle of the study; she turned sharply when they came in and essayed a tentative smile. She had thick black hair and large, deerlike brown eyes; in one hand she clutched what looked like a small piece of paper. Roarke nodded at her. "Good morning, Miss Zuma."

"Hello, Mr. Roarke," replied Tabitha Zuma in a soft voice that was spiced with a gentle, exotic accent unfamiliar to Leslie. "Hello, Leslie…it's good to see you again. I thank you both for granting my fantasy."

"You're quite welcome," Roarke said warmly, going to the desk. "Please do sit down; I hope you weren't kept waiting long."

"No, I've only just arrived." Tabitha carefully settled herself into a club chair and Leslie paused for a moment.

"Something to drink?" she asked.

Tabitha shook her head. "No, thank you." She smiled up at Leslie in a way that made the latter woman hesitate again.

Finally Leslie gave in to her rampaging curiosity. "You said you're seeing me 'again'," she said. "I'm really sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

Tabitha blushed heavily, just the way Michiko had described. "I didn't think you'd remember," she admitted. "In our final year of high school, you talked Myeko Sensei into giving me an invitation to the last of her famous Halloween parties. I remember that you came as the Invisible Girl, and absolutely stole the show."

Leslie's memory was jogged quite suddenly, and she blinked in amazement. "That's right…I remember that now!" she exclaimed. "My gosh, I'd forgotten all about that!"

"I never did," Tabitha admitted with a little smile. "I wanted all evening long to go to you and thank you for that kindness, but I never found the courage. I was extremely shy in those days, and my English was nearly nonexistent at the time. I could read and write it just fine, but speaking it was very difficult for me. I did make a friend at the party that night, though, and she tutored me so that I learned to speak the language much better."

"I see," said Leslie and turned red herself, settling into the other chair. "I wish you _had_ come and said something that night. Now that I remember, obviously I never got to meet you. What kind of costume were you wearing?"

"I was an Aztec princess," Tabitha explained, "which leads me to my fantasy." She turned to face Roarke, who had been listening to their exchange with patient interest. "You see, Mr. Roarke, I was born in a tiny isolated village in Mexico. I'm pure-blooded Aztec—one of few remaining in modern times. Our village stayed isolated until I was about ten, and I never spoke anything but Náhuatl until developers eventually broke through the jungle and stumbled over us. Word went back to the authorities, and everyone was relocated to the nearest large city, Mérida. The men had to get jobs—which were extremely difficult to find—and the children were all made to go to school. We had to learn Spanish on our own and very quickly. To this day I don't speak it perfectly; I never had a proper tutor. I did take the class in high school here, so my command of the language is better now."

"I see," Roarke said. "Go on, please."

"We had been so isolated in the jungle that relocation to the outside world had the same effect on us that the original Spanish _conquistadors_ had on my people several centuries ago. Most of the villagers eventually died of various ordinary illnesses. My parents saw what was happening and decided the only thing to do was get out; so we made the trip to the American border and slipped across it near Mexicali. We eventually settled in its sister city, Calexico in California.

"But even there my parents didn't feel we were safe, and that's when they sent their appeal here to Fantasy Island to be considered for immigrant status. I was almost twelve when we arrived here. I found that once again, I had to learn a new language, and it was even more difficult for me than Spanish. I was terrified of more of the teasing I remembered from school in Mérida and again in Calexico."

Roarke had leaned forward across the desk and was staring at her in amazement. "I remember your parents' petition," he said, "but I had no idea you had made such an arduous journey! You traveled nearly two thousand miles just to reach the United States!"

Tabitha nodded. "It took us six months to make it, and we were malnourished and seriously underweight by the time we got to Calexico. We stayed there for only another three months or so—your approval of our petition was very quick, Mr. Roarke. But we were there long enough that I did make one friend…and he is the reason for my fantasy." She offered Roarke the little paper in her hand, which turned out to be a small school photograph. "This is the best friend I ever had—Fernando Ordoñez."

The picture was of a smiling dark-haired Hispanic boy around eleven or twelve years old. Roarke studied it thoughtfully and then handed it to Leslie for perusal. "I understand you wish to find him again?" he prompted.

Tabitha nodded, reddening again. "He helped me to learn a little English, but since he could speak Spanish, we usually communicated in that, even though my Spanish was rather broken. When we had been in Calexico about two months, Fernando's father was suddenly transferred to Texas, and they moved away. It happened so quickly that we never even had time to promise to write. Ever since then, I've wondered what happened to him."

Roarke nodded; Leslie looked up then, handing the picture back to Tabitha. "He looks like he must have been a very good person," she said, "someone who made you feel welcome and a little less out of place."

"He did," Tabitha said, "and he was the only one who extended that courtesy. I suppose that's why I remembered it when you did what you did for me."

"How did you know I was responsible?" Leslie asked.

Tabitha grinned, enhancing an already attractive face. "Michiko told me," she said. "When I asked her to thank Myeko for me, she said, 'You shouldn't actually thank Myeko. It wasn't her idea—it was Leslie Hamilton's. I'll tell her for you.' Of course, I knew who you were, and I was even more stunned after that. Maybe that's why I didn't have the courage to talk to you."

Leslie went red again too. "Gosh, am I that unapproachable?" she kidded, and they all laughed. "I'm just glad I was able to make someone happy. Listen…it's my understanding that your friend Fernando is here on the island."

Tabitha sat straight up in her chair, her face lighting up. "He is?"

"He certainly is," Roarke said, "but I should caution you that he may not be the same person you remember. It has been some fifteen years or more, and people change a great deal in that time. Furthermore, he does not realize that you are responsible for bringing him here; he believes he won a random contest. I am told that he tends to spend a great deal of time at the swimming pool, especially during its busiest hours; so you may prefer to look for him there just after lunch." He produced another photo from a desk drawer and handed it across the desk to Tabitha. "This is what he looks like now."

Tabitha studied the picture curiously. The present-day Fernando bore only superficial resemblance to the boy in the original picture; he was quite good-looking, but his smile seemed reserved, even somewhat reluctant. She looked up and asked, "Mr. Roarke, do you think he looks…troubled, somehow?"

Roarke regarded her, impressed with her powers of observation. "That was my opinion, yes," he said. "However, there is no way of determining the origin of that troubled mien, unless you are able to speak with him."

Tabitha looked nervous for the first time. "I just hope we can renew our friendship. I'd hate to think that something happened to him that would make him feel he couldn't trust me just to be his friend when he needs one."

"Well, you don't know till you try," Leslie told her. "Something tells me if you see him and you don't speak to him because you're not sure how you'll be received, you'll wind up regretting it later."

Tabitha considered this and nodded slowly. "I think you're right." She composed herself and focused on Roarke with a game smile. "I truly appreciate all the trouble you've gone to for me in locating Fernando, Mr. Roarke."

Roarke smiled back. "You are very welcome, Miss Zuma. Since there is some time yet before lunch, you might want to take the opportunity to relax and enjoy the amenities before you go to meet him."

Tabitha dipped her head once in acknowledgment. "Thank you again, Mr. Roarke. Uh…I wonder if I could 'borrow' Leslie for a little while? I'd like to talk with her."

"I believe she can spare an hour or so," Roarke said indulgently. "But I will need you back here to make a quick check on the Aristides fantasy, Leslie, so try to be back here sometime between eleven-thirty and noon."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Leslie said. "See you then." She arose with Tabitha, and the two young women strolled onto the veranda before Tabitha spoke again.

"It took me a long time to find the courage to go through with this fantasy," she admitted. "And then I had to wait another six months because I needed to save the money for it. I wanted there to be enough to help fund a search for Fernando if necessary."

Leslie smiled. "You didn't have to do that. Kids occasionally request fantasies and send what seems to them like enormous sums, and Father is as likely to grant, or reject, those as he is people who cough up a year's salary for the privilege. I can remember at least one little girl who paid seven dollars for her fantasy, and he granted it…it was for a good reason, of course. They nearly always are."

"What a business you have a hand in," Tabitha remarked, giggling faintly. "I envied you from a distance, you know. It sounded as if you had access to all sorts of wonderful, fascinating things the rest of us could only speculate about."

"I guess so," said Leslie reflectively. "It's a great life, I must say. You wouldn't believe how many guests we've had who wish out loud that they could live here."

"I'm sure of that," Tabitha agreed. "I came to understand very early on that I was lucky to be a resident. If I remember right, we were accepted on the basis of our being members of a slowly-dying race. As I said, there aren't many pure-blooded Aztecs anymore. I think Mr. Roarke might have been hoping he could help to preserve some of our culture. I know I've done my best to do that. My first language is still Náhuatl—it always has been."

"How interesting," commented Leslie with enthusiasm. "Do you get many chances to speak it?"

"I see my parents frequently," Tabitha said, "and we always use it then, as long as it's only the three of us. I'm an only child, so I try to visit them at least every week." She sighed. "I suppose that to you, my life is very quiet and ordinary. But I'm still not sure of myself, and even taking this step…I'm quaking inside. And I'm terrified of how Fernando will react to me—if he even remembers me at all."

"Do you want me to go with you when you see him the first time?" Leslie asked.

Tabitha thought about it. "I think maybe I should do it alone," she finally said with clear reluctance. "I need to stop being afraid of everything." She looked up at Leslie. "I do thank you for the offer…but I guess I should just jump in with both feet and hope I don't sink like a boulder."

Leslie grinned sympathetically. "I can just imagine. Well, if you need anything, we're never far away. Like Father said, just enjoy yourself, and try not to dwell on seeing Fernando for the first time in years. After all, you don't know how it'll go, so be optimistic."

"I'll try." Tabitha smiled slightly, but Leslie could see the worry lurking in her big dark eyes. "I'll really try. Thank you, Leslie." She started away down the veranda, and Leslie watched her go, wishing she and Tabitha had managed to connect at that party. _Maybe she'll be willing to stay in touch when her fantasy's over…whatever its outcome is._


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- April 25, 1992

Around one o'clock Tabitha made her way to the swimming pool, which at this hour was quite crowded. All the tables were occupied, and there were quite a few people in the pool, some playing water polo. Every stool at the bar was taken, as were all the lounge chairs. Tabitha looked around her and felt herself turning bright red, that old fear popping to life in her stomach. Ever since the discovery of her native village, she lived in fear of change. That first one had been monumental; she had never been able to go back to the place where she had been born, even if she could have found it again.

A native girl bearing a tray full of drinks paused beside her. "Can I help you with anything, miss?" she inquired politely.

Tabitha hesitated. "I—I'm looking for someone," she said, forcing herself to take the plunge. "Can you tell me where Fernando Ordoñez is sitting?"

"Oh, of course. Mr. Ordoñez comes here every day about this time," the girl said and gestured to a small umbrella-shaded table at the corner of the pool farthest from where she and Tabitha now stood. "He arrived just a few minutes ago."

"Thank you," Tabitha said; the girl nodded, smiled and moved on with her tray. Tabitha stood still for a moment, gazing across the pool at the young man identified as her old friend. She recalled the photo Roarke had shown her, tried to compare it with what she saw now, and sighed deeply. _I'm too far away to see him properly._ _Oh, face it, Tabitha Zuma, you're scared. Didn't you tell Leslie you have to learn to get over that? Besides, if he recognizes you, it can only be a good thing. We were friends, after all._ She drew in a long, deep breath, counted to ten in Náhuatl, then Spanish, and then English just for good measure, and resolutely made her way across the concrete towards Fernando's table. By the time she'd finished weaving her way through groups of guests, around lounge chairs and over people lying on towels sunbathing, she'd all but forgotten her apprehension. She was close enough now to see Fernando properly, and she was astonished at how much he had changed from the boy she remembered. He was staring out across the pool through a pair of sunglasses so dark they looked opaque, one hand wrapped tightly around the arm of his chair as if to anchor himself to it. Once more she took in a fortifying breath and questioned tentatively, "Fernando?"

He jumped as if someone had poked him in the back and cranked around to stare at her. Neither moved for a moment, though Tabitha knew from the heat in her cheeks that her face was reddening yet again; then Fernando lifted his sunglasses and peered at her more closely, leaning forward in his chair. "Tabitha Zuma?" he exclaimed.

"Yes!" Tabitha blurted, overjoyed.

Fernando squinted at her for a long second; then he scowled heavily. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I think you should leave me alone," he said curtly.

Caught by surprise, she blinked at him. "But I thought we could…"

"Forget it!" Fernando snapped. "Just go away, do you understand?"

Without another word Tabitha, eyes immediately overflowing, turned away and stumbled blindly through the pool area, no longer bothering to watch where she was going. She bumped into more than one person and mumbled garbled excuses, now in Náhuatl, now in English, now in Spanish, till she had escaped and managed to secrete herself in a nearby willow grove. There, sheltered by the long drooping pale-green stems, she cried her heart out. It felt to her as if her last dream had just been shattered beyond recovery.

Fernando Ordoñez settled his sunglasses back into place and surreptitiously watched Tabitha leave till he could no longer see her. He felt like a heel and wanted more than anything else on earth to call her back to him; but he didn't dare. Too many eyes were watching him. If they thought he knew her, she would be in as much danger as he was. Once more he scanned the pool and its perimeter, trying to look bored and sleepy in the tropical heat, but now his mind was on the miraculous reappearance of the refugee Aztec girl he'd never really forgotten. _I can't put her in danger,_ he thought, _but I've got to see her, talk to her. Just need to figure out how!_ Frustrated, he waved the nearest tray-carrying native girl over to his table for a drink. Right now he needed one.

‡ ‡ ‡

"Oh, no…he didn't!" Leslie exclaimed. Tabitha had dropped into the main house late in the afternoon and poured out her anguish to Leslie and Roarke.

"He did," Tabitha confirmed, her eyes filling again. "You were right, Mr. Roarke. I should have listened to you more closely. He's not the same person I remember."

"Perhaps there is only something troubling him," Roarke suggested, "although I will admit that his treatment of you was rather harsh. However, there is undoubtedly more to the story than you know as yet. Remember where you are, Miss Zuma…if you have faith in that, then you must believe there will be a way."

Leslie nodded when Tabitha turned her teary gaze on her. "In the meantime, if you're feeling hungry later on, come here and have supper with us. Mariki always makes more than we can eat anyway, so the kitchen staff eat pretty well." Tabitha snickered despite herself, and Leslie grinned, pleased that her little quip had gotten the desired result. "And Mariki's a terrific cook. So why don't you meet us on the veranda around six or so?"

"I think I'd like that," Tabitha agreed. "All right, I'll be here. Thank you, Leslie…and you too, Mr. Roarke. I haven't been in Amberville in so long…maybe I'll go there and do a little window-shopping."

"Go right ahead," said Leslie. "You'll feel a little better and you can get your mind off things. Something tells me this isn't over yet, so don't give up hope."

Roarke spoke up then. "Leslie, why don't you accompany her? Take one of the rovers and stay for awhile." He saw Leslie's surprised stare and chuckled. "I do have a reason for your going there, yes," he said, withdrawing an envelope from the desk drawer and handing it to her. "Give that to Sheriff Tokita while you're in town."

"I'll do that," Leslie said. "All right, then, we'll be back for dinner."

In the town square, Leslie detoured to the little police station long enough to give Roarke's envelope to the receptionist, Mei-Lian Ching, the same lady who had given Leslie her driver's test and her first license nearly twelve years before. "Thank you," said Mei-Lian, beaming at Leslie. "I haven't seen you in ages. Did Mr. Roarke say what this is about?"

Leslie shook her head. "No idea," she said. "I guess it must be important; he asked that Sheriff Tokita see it."

"In that case, I'll give it to him right now," Mei-Lian said, rising from her chair. "You two have a good evening."

"You too, Mei-Lian," Leslie said and ushered Tabitha out the door ahead of her. Mei-Lian peered at the envelope on her way to the back room, where the sheriff was filling out a couple of reports.

"Sheriff, Leslie Hamilton just dropped this off. She said it's from Mr. Roarke and that you should see it," she told him.

Sheriff Masako Tokita looked up and smiled. "Thank you, Mei-Lian. It sounds a little urgent." He used a letter opener to slice through the flap and withdrew a single sheet of paper. It was a slightly-reduced photocopy of a _Wanted_ poster which bore no fewer than three photos of men with hard, angry faces. They were said to be armed and dangerous. The sheriff sighed gently and shook his head. "Post this in the window," he told the secretary. "I have a feeling this could be very important, especially since it came from Mr. Roarke."

Meantime, Leslie and Tabitha strolled along the storefronts, pausing now and then to examine something in a shop window, chatting as they walked. Out of curiosity, the pair veered into a shop to look at some sundresses, and ran into none other than Myeko, who lit up when she recognized Leslie. "Wow, never expected to see you goofing off on a weekend! What's happening?"

Leslie grinned teasingly at her. "You escaped Toki's manic guard, did you? Where's the little guy?"

"Aw, Toki's just overprotective. You should see how crazy he is about the baby. He's right here," said Myeko cheerfully, gesturing down at the stroller in front of her. "This is Alexander Masako Tokita."

"He's beautiful," Tabitha exclaimed softly, kneeling down to gaze at the tiny, sleeping infant. "How old is he?"

"He'll be a month old tomorrow," Myeko said. "I went into labor about two hours after I saw you in the post office that day, Leslie. It's the first chance I've had to get out of the house and buy stuff that isn't maternity clothes." Both girls laughed. "So…introduce me to your new friend here."

"You might recognize the name," Leslie said. "This is Tabitha Zuma—we all went to high school with her. Tabitha, you'll remember Myeko Sensei. She's married to Michiko Tokita's brother."

Tabitha rose and nodded, blushing deeply. "Hello, Myeko. I know I'm a few years late, but I wanted to thank you for the Halloween-party invitation."

Myeko peered blankly at her, and Leslie filled her in. "Remember our senior year when I asked you to invite someone who didn't seem to get many invitations?"

"Oh…_oh!"_ Myeko brightened with the memory. "Well gosh, why didn't you come up and say hi or something? I remember Michiko telling us you were in the choir. It's nice to finally meet you after all this time. Holy cow, that was almost ten years ago."

"I know," Tabitha said, still vividly red-faced. "I always wanted to, but…"

"It's okay, don't worry about it," Myeko said. "You did come to the party…didn't you?" She winked, and they all laughed.

"That's the one the Ordoñez kid saw at the pool," muttered a voice just outside the window. Three figures, casually dressed in shorts and mesh tank tops, loitered in front of the shop pretending to be staring at the window display, while actually watching the three young women inside. The one in the red shorts and navy-blue tank slanted a quick glance up at Tabitha Zuma. "The girl in the yellow sundress. Think they know each other?"

"What'd he do when he saw her?" asked the man in white shorts and black tank.

"Looked like he recognized her at first, then he told her to go away or something, 'cause she left a couple seconds later. But if they do know each other, he mighta stashed it with her."

The man in a green tank and yellow shorts shook his head. "Doubtful. From his initial reaction to her, they hadn't seen each other in a long time."

"You think it's worth pursuin', Cal?" asked the first man.

The man in black and white considered it, then shook his head slowly. "Not right now. But keep an eye on her, Larry. She might turn out to be useful later."

The first man nodded. "Gotcha, chief."

"What are _we_ to do?" asked the third man in an accent that sounded somewhat British, somewhat Australian.

"Keep tailing Ordoñez, of course," said the second man. "Since his old man checked out, he's the one who owes us now. So don't let him too far outta your sight."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- April 25, 1992

Just before dinner, Roarke received a visitor. "Ah, _señor_ Ordoñez," he said, looking up and smiling in welcome. "Please have a seat, won't you?"

Fernando Ordoñez returned the smile but shook his head. "_Gracias, señor_ Roarke, but I don't have very long. I just wanted to say _muchas gracias_ for all your hospitality. I've felt a little safer here."

Roarke frowned in surprise. "Safer, _señor_ Ordoñez…?"

Fernando, realizing he had slipped, shrugged and smiled a little foolishly. "From the rigors of med school," he said jokingly. Roarke responded with the obligatory chuckle, but traces of his puzzled expression remained. "Anyway…" Fernando gazed around the room, making a slow 360-degree turn to take it all in. "This is an amazing place, _señor_ Roarke, and it definitely lives up to all the hype it gets. I'm not sure how I got so fortunate as to win the trip here, but I'm very glad I did." He hesitated a moment, looking as if he might say something else; Roarke waited patiently.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he finally prompted.

Fernando cast an anxious look out the open French shutters at his right, then turned back to Roarke and lowered his voice. "I, uh…well, _señor_, I saw someone at the pool, someone I used to know years ago. Her name is Tabitha Zuma." Roarke nodded in recognition. "I…wasn't able to speak with her there, but I do want to see her. This evening maybe, when she isn't busy. Am I breaching protocol in asking you which bungalow is hers?"

"Oh, not at all, _señor_ Ordoñez," Roarke replied, smiling again. "As a matter of fact, I believe she will be very happy to see you. She is in the Lotus Bungalow. Of course, if you wish to have dinner with my daughter and me this evening, you would see Miss Zuma that much sooner. She will be dining with us at Leslie's invitation."

Fernando looked a little startled, straightening up and backing a couple of steps away. "I don't think so, _señor_ Roarke…I have…other plans for dinner. I heard the hotel chef is very good with seafood." He smiled weakly. "I don't mean to sound rude, but…" His voice trailed off and he winced abruptly. Roarke watched in silence. After a moment Fernando sighed deeply, taking another look around the room. "But I truly appreciate your extending the invitation. If it's still open, perhaps tomorrow evening."

"Of course," Roarke agreed, suspicion lingering in his dark eyes. He skillfully masked it, smiled for Fernando's benefit. "And perhaps it's wise for you to take advantage of Jean-Claude's presence, for he is due to retire in the summer."

Fernando laughed, more heartily than the situation warranted. "I see! Then I should get to the hotel with all due haste, I think. Once again, _muchas, muchas gracias, señor."_

"_De nada,"_ Roarke said with another smile and watched the young man leave the house at a gait just shy of an all-out run. The smile faded and he settled slowly back in his chair, trying to understand Fernando Ordoñez's nervous demeanor. He wondered if Tabitha Zuma had noticed this about him, and considered asking her when she and Leslie returned for the evening meal. She hadn't mentioned it when she had told him and Leslie about Fernando's initial reaction to her, and his two guests had had so little contact thus far that he was pretty sure the question would yield little information; but he decided it was still worth asking. Decision made, he arose from the desk and went to check on the meal.

He had just emerged onto the veranda when Leslie and Tabitha pulled up in the rover and stopped beside the fountain. Tabitha carried a package, and both young women were laughing. Roarke paused at the top of the steps to meet them.

"Hello, ladies, how was the shopping trip?" he asked.

"It was fun," Tabitha said with a shy smile.

"We met Myeko and the baby in town," Leslie added. "He's still so little, he looks like the old baby dolls I used to have." She grinned. "I guess we're just in time."

Roarke smiled. "I believe so, yes. Mariki should be out momentarily. Why don't you leave that here by your chair, Miss Zuma, and let's take our seats."

They were well involved in the meal when a figure slipped warily into the empty study through the open French shutters. He knew he had only so much time and he must execute his plan quickly. Drawing a deep breath and trying to quiet his loudly-protesting conscience, he made his way behind Roarke's desk and studied the drawers, choosing one at random and groaning softly when it turned out to be locked. Actually, that would have been perfect, except he didn't have a key to get into it. He could only settle for the hope that no one would ever think to look here. He pulled out the top middle drawer, extracted a bulging, rubber-banded envelope from the camera pouch strapped around his waist, and shoved it as far back in the drawer as it would go, then hurriedly pushed the drawer shut. Shooting one last frantic glance at the foyer, he all but ran out of the study and through the shutters, vanishing down a trail that led off the terrace.

About fifteen minutes later Tabitha sat back and smiled. "You were right, Leslie—Mariki is a wonderful cook. I don't think I've ever eaten so well in my entire life."

Leslie grinned, and Roarke smiled. "Why don't you tell Mariki that? She would very much appreciate the compliment. I myself am very pleased that you so enjoyed the meal. Is there anything else we can do for you?"

"Oh, you shouldn't ask me that," Tabitha warned with a slight laugh. "I'll be so badly spoiled when the weekend is over, I won't want to go home." Roarke and Leslie chuckled in response. "The wine was simply wonderful. I've never had such an excellent vintage."

"I'm glad," Roarke said. "In that case, then, Miss Zuma, feel free to go wherever you like—the casino, the pool, the lagoon. The evening is yours to spend as you wish."

Tabitha arose, her face alight. "Again, thank you so very much, Mr. Roarke. Or, as we'd say in Náhuatl, _tlazohcamati huel miec."_

"You are very welcome indeed, Miss Zuma," Roarke said, also rising along with Leslie. "Enjoy your evening." They both watched Tabitha cross the porch, descend the steps and start up the Main House Lane.

"I wish we'd gotten to know each other back at that Halloween party," Leslie said wistfully. "She's such a nice person, Father."

"Well, as the saying goes, better late than never," Roarke observed, pushing his chair in beneath the table and starting back toward the door to go inside. Leslie fell into step beside him. "I believe you and she have already forged a friendship; and I suspect before long, she will become a member of your group of friends. Incidentally…" He tossed a curious glance at Leslie. "You never mentioned you had asked Myeko to send Miss Zuma an invitation to that party."

"I forgot all about it," Leslie admitted with a shrug. "That was about the time Camille started acting really peculiar, and her sister came home for a visit…"

"Ah yes," Roarke said. "So there were other things on your mind at the time…quite understandable." He opened the door and let her precede him inside. "Why don't you wait here; I'm going to make a brief check on the Aristides fantasy for an update."

Tabitha took a leisurely walk back to her bungalow and settled herself into an overstuffed easy chair, unwrapping her package and lifting out the two dresses she had bought. She had just gone into the bedroom to hang them up when there was a knock on her door; in surprise she laid the dresses across the bed and hurried out to answer it. To her amazement, there stood Fernando Ordoñez.

"Hello, Tabitha," he said softly, looking sheepish.

She stared at him. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

Fernando went red, cast a faintly-alarmed glance over his shoulder and said, "If you'll let me in, I'll explain everything, I promise. Please."

His expression and demeanor puzzled her, but she couldn't refuse him. She stepped aside, and he darted through the door and closed it for her. Finally she asked, "Fernando, for heaven's sake, what's wrong?"

He paused for a moment, just to take in her face, then cradled it in both hands and smiled, softening his anxious look. "Your English has improved so much, _mi amiga_. And you've become so beautiful. You must tell me what happened." He planted a hand between her shoulder blades and guided her into the main room of the bungalow, where they both settled into the love seat. Tabitha sat up and faced him.

"Fernando, please," she insisted. "First, tell me what's wrong."

He sighed deeply and folded her hands into his. "I really didn't want to treat you that way at the pool," he began. "I felt like the lowest creature in the world when I sent you away from me…but I had to do it, for your safety. You see, Tabbie, there are some men who are looking for me. I have something they want, and they'll stop at nothing to get it."

His old nickname for her made her smile in spite of herself. "Oh, 'Nando, _mi amigo_. Why are they after you?"

He lowered his head, studied his hands wrapped around hers. "I guess I should start at the very beginning. My father was determined to see that I had a better life than he did, one where I would never lack for anything and perhaps be able to properly provide for a family someday, as he had so much trouble doing. He worked himself to exhaustion to earn the money to pay for college and medical school for me. I tried to help—I have a partial scholarship. But the expense is staggering, and Papa was finally forced to borrow a rather large sum from an old friend of his, Calvin Howell. Unfortunately, he learned too late that Howell forged a career on the wrong side of the law. The man deals primarily in illegal gambling, with a loan-shark business on the side.

"Papa had hoped that their status as longtime friends, ever since junior high school, would give him some immunity. But Howell has no conscience left; he'd cheerfully bury his grandmother alive just to win a bet. For a while Howell let Papa believe that he was cutting him a break, and graciously accepted Papa's loan repayments over the next four years while I finished college and went on to medical school. He even made out receipts which Papa kept in a safe place. But then, when the loan was fully repaid, Howell's true colors came out, and he continued to extort money out of Papa, calling it interest on the original loan. He always came with a couple of henchmen, and all three of them were heavily armed, so Papa never had a choice but to go on paying him.

"This went on for a year before Papa's tolerance reached its limit. Just last fall, as I was starting my final year of medical school, Papa laid down the law and announced that he was paying Howell no more money. He insisted that he had already paid far more than he had owed, and it was time for the extortion to stop. They argued about it, and Howell and his men brandished their guns, but Papa had had enough and stood his ground. They got angry and shot Papa to death; then they ransacked the room and took all the money they could find.

"I saw everything: I was upstairs in the shadows, out of sight of them all, watching. I didn't dare intervene, and when they killed Papa, I was frozen with shock and couldn't move if I'd tried. But I grew furious when I saw them tearing the room apart, and I knew I had to avenge Papa's death somehow. So I followed them at a distance, into downtown Calexico, until I saw them park their car in front of a large brick building and go inside. I slipped in after them; they had no guard, believe it or not. Incredibly careless of them—but I've since learned there are only the three of them, and they're small-time hoods despite the front they put up. They're cocky, too—they think all they need is their muscles and their guns, and no one will stand up to them and live through it.

"I probably shouldn't have done what I did, but my anger was too strong and it was dictating my actions. I hid in a safe place and waited until I saw all the lights go out and heard the men leave…then I slipped into Howell's office, picked the locks on all the drawers in his desk with my pocketknife, found the money they stole from Papa…and stole it back."

Tabitha, who had been gaping in disbelief throughout this narrative, gasped loudly. "Fernando, what were you thinking?"

"I told you, my anger was driving my actions," he said, running a hand through his glossy black hair. "Why should such lowlifes get away with what they'd done? I got safely out of the building with the money, but they learned it was gone almost immediately, and ever since then I've been looking over my shoulder. When I received a notice in the mail that I had won a trip to Fantasy Island, I thought it would be a perfect time to slip out of town and lie low for awhile, as long as Mr. Roarke would let me stay, anyway. So I've been here for nearly two weeks, but my time here is almost up and I don't know what I'm going to do after that—especially since I discovered three days after my arrival that Howell and his two pals followed me here."

Tabitha paled. "Fernando, you can't go on like this. Why don't you tell Mr. Roarke?"

"I have no evidence, Tabbie," Fernando said. "Those damned crooks took the receipts that Howell had given Papa and burned them, so there was no evidence of the transactions. I have nothing to prove that the money wasn't theirs—only the story I just told you. And what can Mr. Roarke do with that? I didn't want you mixed up in my mess, Tabbie. So when I saw you at the pool, I was so stunned for a moment that I forgot myself, but I knew immediately that I wanted you safe. You're completely innocent and have nothing to do with any of this."

"Well, I do now," Tabitha said nervously, "now that I know your story. And what's more, you can't get rid of me now. If you let me, I could try to help you. I could go to Mr. Roarke and Leslie and tell them everything you told me."

"No," Fernando said, rocketing upright and grasping her shoulders. "No, Tabbie, don't do that. It would only put them in danger too, and I'm already risking your life just by telling you all this. And anyway, I've hidden the money in the safest possible place I could think of." He shook his head. "But I couldn't go on letting you think I wanted nothing to do with you. The look on your face when you left the pool…you'll never know how terrible I felt. Oh, Tabbie, please, let me make it up to you somehow."

She smiled faintly. "To begin with, you could explain something for me. I thought you and your father moved to Texas, but you said you followed those men into downtown Calexico. When did you move back?"

"Less than six months after we left," Fernando said. "Papa's job in Texas didn't work out, so we returned to Calexico. Unfortunately, by then you were gone, and no one in our old class even seemed to realize you weren't there anymore, much less knew where you had gone. I've wondered what happened to you ever since." He grinned broadly for the first time, bringing back strong memories for Tabitha of the boy she had known. "So…now it's your turn to tell me your story."

"It won't be quite as long as yours," Tabitha said. "I think I managed to explain to you that we are full-blooded Aztecs, my parents and I, and my father wondered whether that was enough to give us refuge in the only place on earth that didn't require oceans of red tape to initiate and complete the immigration process. So he wrote to Mr. Roarke within a week of our arrival in Calexico and explained everything as best he could in the Spanish we had learned during our time in Mexico, after our village was discovered. The gamble paid off and Mr. Roarke gave us the go-ahead to move to Fantasy Island. We left before you came back to Calexico, and I grew up and went to high school here. I took classes in Spanish there, and in my last year I met a girl who tutored me in English so that I finally learned the language well enough to function properly."

"She did a wonderful job. You speak it flawlessly," Fernando complimented her.

"_Gracias, mi amigo._ My Spanish is better but still not perfect, unfortunately, but at least when I speak it, it isn't quite so broken." She chuckled. "Papa got a job at the casino, and Mama took a position as a maid at one of the mansions in the Enclave. When I finished high school I was able to get a job as the receptionist for a doctor on the other side of the island. I've been with him for nine years now, but he's elderly and wants to retire soon. Unfortunately, there's no one to replace him, so he simply carries on. I have a tiny apartment near the fishing village, and Mama and Papa still have a little house there that we moved into when we first came to Fantasy Island. I try to visit them once a week."

"I never forgot you, Tabbie," Fernando said softly. "I'm glad you were able to come here. Did you find school easy here? Did you make new friends?"

Tabitha told him about her school years on the island, and he nodded, absorbing her narrative. She looked up after a few moments' pause, then said, "I never forgot you either, _mi amigo_. I just didn't know where you were to try to find you again, and you and your father left for Texas so suddenly…"

"I know," he said wistfully. "Neither of us ever thought to ask for the other's address to stay in touch. What a stroke of luck that I won that contest."

Tabitha blushed her usual sunset red and said, "I have to confess, 'Nando, there was no contest. That was my doing. I finally wrote to Mr. Roarke and Leslie and asked them to grant me a fantasy—which was to find you again. And they did, somehow."

Fernando stared at her in astonishment, then began to smile. It turned into a grin that stretched from one ear to the other. "Tabbie, you are a rare gift," he said at last. "And maybe a mind reader. Just yesterday morning I was going to track down Mr. Roarke and ask him for a fantasy of my own—namely, to find you!"

Tabitha's hand went to her mouth, and all of a sudden they both started to laugh, then hugged each other without restraint for the first time in some fifteen years. And it was then that they heard the knock on the door.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- April 25, 1992

They both shot upright and stared at each other in horror. _"Dios!"_ Fernando whispered. "I _knew_ I was taking a chance coming here, but I had to see you…now you're in as much trouble as I am!"

"No," Tabitha said firmly, determined to try to help her best friend somehow. "No_, mi amigo_, not if I can help it. Come in here." She grabbed his hand and towed him into the bedroom, where she threw aside the louvered shutter-style doors to the closet. "I know it's a cliché, but I don't think you would fit under the bed, and there's no other place to hide. Just close the doors and stay quiet, and I'll deal with whoever it is."

"Tabbie…" Fernando began, but she only shook her head. He sighed, gave up and plastered himself against the wall at the far end of the closet. "Be careful, _amiga_."

She smiled, then remembered the dresses on the bed, grabbed them up and hung them on the clothes bar, pushing them in his direction to allow him extra concealment. The knock came again, more insistent this time, while she hastily closed the doors and then tried to calm herself. When she reached the door, she drew in a deep fortifying breath and pulled it open just enough to peer out.

A man she didn't know, clad in a green mesh tank top and loose yellow running shorts, stood eyeing her. "Yes?" she asked.

"You seen this bloke around?" the man asked bluntly, displaying a photo of Fernando at her. It was a copy of the one Roarke had shown her. She stared at it for a moment, then shook her head.

"I've just arrived here," she said with a shrug, "and the only people I've really seen are Mr. Roarke and Leslie. I'm afraid you have the wrong person."

The man's expression changed and he glared at her. "Then why were you talking to him at the pool this morning?"

Jet planes blinked into life in Tabitha's stomach, but she glared right back at him. "What makes you think that was me?" she demanded, sounding properly outraged. "Who do you think you are, bothering people who are only minding their own business and asking questions that are none of yours? Get away from here before I call the island police!"

That was enough to deter the man and he subsided, putting some hasty distance between himself and her. "All right, lady, all right," he said, backpedaling without looking behind him and as a result pitching off the top step of the bungalow's tiny porch. He tried to catch himself but landed flat on his butt, very hard, in the dirt at the foot of the steps. Tabitha gave him one last glare and slammed the door on him, quaking with fear yet wanting to laugh at the man's mishap all at once. She squinted through a peephole in the door, watching the offensive visitor pick himself up and depart the premises. Only then did she return to the closet.

"It's safe, 'Nando," she said softly. "You can come out now."

Fernando pushed aside the clothes and emerged from the closet, running his hand through his hair again. "You certainly sounded fierce," he remarked with a grin. "I'm sure glad you're on my side, Tabbie."

She shrugged. "I don't like this at all," she said. "I still think we should tell Mr. Roarke. We need someone in authority on our side, not just my false bravado."

Fernando shook his head. "I'm beginning to agree with you," he admitted, "but I think it might be too late right now. I suppose I'd better just return to my hotel room."

"No," Tabitha protested. "They could ambush you on your way there. Why…why don't you stay here?"

Fernando stared at her. "Tabbie, this bungalow isn't big enough for us both!"

"There's a sofa bed in the main room," she said. "I'll pull it out for you and you can stay here for the night. I'd sleep better if I knew you were here where no one can get to you. We just met again after all these years, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

He smiled at her and swept some hair back from her face. "You're pretty fierce when you need to be," he said admiringly. "Protective, too. I never thought I'd see that side of the shy refugee I remember. All right, I'll do it, then. To be honest, I think I'd feel safer here with you too. In the morning, we can go to Mr. Roarke."

§ § § -- April 26, 1992

The door clicked open and three figures sneaked into the hotel room, which was black as pitch and impossible to see in. There wasn't even any light leaking from around the closed drapes at the window. "Get the light, Cap," ordered a voice.

"If I can find it," came the grousing reply. There were several thuds and muffled curses before the room was flooded with light, making the men blink.

"He's not here!" blurted the third man.

"Dammit, Larry, I thought I told you to keep tailing him!" shouted the first man, incensed. "How the hell are we ever gonna get that money back now?" He swung around on the man who had found the lamp. "Cap, what about the girl?"

"She claims not to know anything, Cal. I was gonna push it, but she threatened to call the cops," said Cap in his almost-British, almost-Australian accent. "I had no choice but to let her be after that. But if we don't find him, he'll have a chance to go to Roarke, and you know we'll never see that money again if that happens."

Calvin Howell growled low in his throat, glaring at his two accomplices. "And I suppose you managed to lose the kid," he said to Larry.

"I shadowed him just fine," Larry said defensively. "Maybe Cap lost him after we switched shifts this afternoon."

"Just a minute…" Cap began.

Howell's fuse ran out. _"Shaddup, you idiots!_ Crap, I knew this whole thing was gonna go wrong! But no, you two lunkheads insisted we hadda come to Fantasy Island and keep tailing Ordoñez. You gonna tell me you never heard of Roarke and his powers? They say he's no ordinary human being, y'know. He probably knows who we are, why we're on his island and even how we got here. Even if Ordoñez hasn't blabbed to Roarke, it's probably already too late. Start looking around this room before we attract any more attention, and for cryin' out loud, you better find that money!"

They spent the next half hour ransacking the hotel room, but found nothing, to their disbelief. "Where the hell did he put that money?" Howell demanded aloud.

Cap and Larry looked at each other. "Maybe the hotel safe," Larry suggested tentatively.

"Or he might've hidden it someplace else," Cap added.

"Oh, _that_ makes things easier," sneered Howell, and his two cronies subsided. "Why the hell did I ever listen to either one of you?…"

A thudding came from the wall of the adjacent room. "Knock it off," a drowsy, muffled voice ordered in annoyance. "Some people're trying to sleep around here."

Howell gave up. "Well, it's a lead-pipe cinch the money isn't here," he grumbled. "Come on, you morons, let's get outta here before the night watch catches us."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- April 26, 1992

Breakfast at the main house was a hurried affair that morning, for there was quite a bit for Roarke and Leslie to accomplish that day. "I can't believe these people are coming on such short notice," Leslie said as she and Roarke walked briskly back into the study. "When exactly did they call?"

"Last evening," Roarke told her. "It can't be helped, I'm afraid. But they wish to buy the Lightwood-Wynton mansion and take immediate possession, so the only thing we can do is mobilize all the staff we have who aren't already occupied and have them ready the house for its prospective new owners. Get Kalani and Akiko from the kitchen and have them help you make the calls, and tell Mariki it's on my authority when she protests."

Leslie grinned. "You know Mariki too well, Father," she said. "The mansion has a staff of its own on call, doesn't it? I should get hold of them too, so they can help."

"Yes," said Roarke, pulling open a desk drawer and reaching inside. "I believe I have a list of—" He cut himself off abruptly and froze where he stood for a moment, then frowned in sheer perplexity and slowly withdrew a white envelope from the back of the drawer.

"What's that?" Leslie asked, coming over to get a better look at it.

Roarke turned the sealed envelope over in his hands, examining it. Its contents bulged within it; there was nothing written on the outside. Only a rubber band seemed to be holding it together; and when Roarke removed it, the envelope burst open, scattering loose United States bills all over the desktop.

"Sweet paradise!" Leslie blurted, dumbfounded.

Roarke stared at the money in amazement. "What on earth…?"

At that point there was a knock on the door, and Leslie gave a start before hurrying up to answer it. She was greeted by a frantic Fernando Ordoñez and Tabitha Zuma, who all but mowed her down elbowing their way inside. "I'm sorry, Leslie," Tabitha exclaimed, "but this is urgent!"

"_Madre Maria!"_ Fernando exclaimed, seeing the money scattered across the desk. "I never thought you'd find it, _señor_ Roarke! I simply thought it was the safest hiding place there could be for it!"

Tabitha gaped in her turn at the loose money, and Leslie edged around her while Roarke focused on Fernando. "Is this money yours, _señor_ Ordoñez?"

"_Si, señor_…and rightfully so," Fernando said earnestly. "I didn't want to mix up anyone else in this ridiculous mess, but Tabbie talked me into coming to you, and that's why we're here. Of course, since you already found the money, I suppose I have no choice now but to explain everything."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed ironically. "Obviously there is quite a story behind this little gold mine. _Señor_ Ordoñez, Miss Zuma, I suggest you both sit down and explain it."

"It's really my story to tell, _señor_ Roarke," Fernando said hurriedly. "Tabbie learned about it herself only last night when I told her." Without further ado he poured out the whole tale to Roarke, who slowly settled into his chair and listened carefully. Leslie, too, took her usual seat and absorbed Fernando's story.

Roarke regarded the money, then Fernando. "Do you realize just how much danger you are in, _señor_ Ordoñez?" he asked. "And frankly, it was extremely foolhardy of you to take it upon yourself to recover your father's stolen money. It amazes me that you are sitting alive before me now."

"Well, I thought it necessary," Fernando said stubbornly. "Besides, _señor_, it's done now, and nothing can change it. But Howell and his men are here on the island, and I know they're looking for me and that money."

"Yes, I know that," Roarke said, making Fernando and Tabitha look at each other in wonder. Leslie smiled knowingly. "In fact, just yesterday I received a copy of a _Wanted_ poster which Leslie took to the police station for me. I expect they should be apprehended before much longer."

"I doubt that," said someone else, and everyone turned to stare at the open French shutters, wherein stood Calvin Howell, Larry and Cap, all with guns drawn and trained on the quartet in the study. "So there it is. Pretty clever of you, Ordoñez, to hide it here in the main house like that. Gotta hand it to you." Howell grinned. "But maybe you're not all that smart, since you led us right here to it. All we hadda do was wait for you to turn up and just follow you. Nobody touch that money. Cap, get in there and gather it up, and bring it here."

But Cap had seen the shuttered expression on Roarke and how icy black his eyes had become, and quailed. "Sorry, chief, but you're gonna have to count me outta this."

"Me too," said Larry quickly, no less observant.

Howell rolled his eyes. "You two yellow-livered chicken-hearted babies, I'll never understand what the hell is wrong with you." He eyed Roarke speculatively and apparently decided to take his chances. "The cash, Roarke, now."

"I don't think you want to tangle with my father," Leslie said softly, but her voice carried clearly to Howell. "Just a friendly warning."

"Young lady, if you don't want a new hole in your face, you better close your trap," Howell told her. "This is my last order. The money."

"I think not," Roarke said in a quiet, deadly tone.

"Chief," Larry broke in urgently, "whaddaya doin'? You were the one who mentioned Roarke and his powers last night in Ordoñez's hotel room!"

"Shaddup, you imbecile," barked Howell. "We've all got guns. Even Roarke can't stop a bullet. He may have powers, but he's not immortal."

"Perhaps not," Roarke agreed, almost pleasantly, "but I'm afraid you underestimate me." He narrowed his eyes at Howell's gun; the safety disengaged itself, and Howell's entire hand began to rotate uncontrollably so that in seconds, he was pointing his own gun at himself. Howell's eyes bulged with disbelief and horror. Cap and Larry, their own eyes popping, made a very visible show of tossing their guns onto the floor in the study, where they skidded a few feet and came to a stop just shy of Fernando's chair. Both raised their hands in tacit surrender; Leslie reached for the phone and called the police.

Roarke stood quietly, clearly concentrating carefully, but he was relaxed. "_Señor_ Ordoñez, I assume you will be able to identify all three of these men?"

"Absolutely, _señor_ Roarke," Fernando said.

"I can identify the one on the left," Tabitha added. "He came to my bungalow last evening asking if I had seen Fernando, and I told him to get lost before I called the police."

Leslie had just hung up the phone. "Wow!" she exclaimed, impressed. "Good for you, Tabitha!" Tabitha grinned sheepishly.

Roarke smiled faintly, without ever taking his eyes off the gun and the hand that held it. "Then I believe we need only wait for the authorities."

Twenty minutes later, the police had been there and gone, taking their three suspects with them; Fernando and Tabitha had given statements and all the guns had been collected. Now the money that had lain scattered on the desk was safely back in the possession of its rightful owner, and Tabitha peered curiously at Fernando.

"Just how long were those men in their so-called business?" she asked.

"I don't really know," Fernando admitted. "All I'm sure of is that Calvin Howell and Papa had known each other since junior high school. I didn't know the other two."

"Small-time crooks," Roarke said. "Larry Parker and Donald 'Cap' Capelli—the latter of whom, by the way, is to be deported back to his native New Zealand—joined Calvin Howell's organization several years ago when he decided to become a, uh, part-time loan shark…for lack of a better description. Since Howell is solely to blame for the murder of your father, _señor_ Ordoñez, he will undoubtedly receive a life sentence without parole, especially with your testimony as a witness."

"He deserves it," Fernando said and fell back in his chair with a deep sigh. "I can hardly believe it's over. It feels as if I've been trying to stay a step ahead of those lowlifes for years, instead of months. And if it hadn't been for Tabitha's request for you to find me, I might still be trying to outrun them." He smiled at Tabitha, who blushed deeply but smiled back, her eyes shining.

"So what sort of plans do you have?" Leslie asked curiously. "I think Tabitha said that you're in your last year of medical school, Mr. Ordoñez."

"Call me Fernando," he said, smiling at her. "You're a friend of Tabbie's, so that makes you a friend of mine too. Well, I don't really know just yet. Of course, I need to return to California in order to graduate the end of next month…but after that, I can't really say."

Tabitha sat up in her chair and looked hesitantly at Roarke. "Mr. Roarke…Dr. Wayne has been talking about retiring for some time now. I realize Fernando may not be able to open his own practice for some time yet, but perhaps when he's ready, he could take over Dr. Wayne's practice." She stopped herself and shot Fernando a hope-filled glance. "That is, if you think you might like to, 'Nando."

"Only if you're willing to stay on as my secretary, _mi amiga,"_ Fernando said, smiling at her. "You know, it's a perfect opportunity. I had decided it might be best to aim for becoming a general practitioner, because you just never know what is needed. That'll take time, Tabbie—I have to get through my internship and residency, and that's at least another three years before I can take over for Dr. Wayne."

"It doesn't matter," she said and grinned at him. "This time we'll have each other's addresses." Everyone laughed, and she turned to Roarke and Leslie with her eyes sparkling in joy. "The way this turned out, I can't believe I didn't do it years ago."

"So you are satisfied with the outcome of your fantasy?" Roarke prompted, dark eyes alight and a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Tabitha and Fernando beamed at each other; and Leslie, her own eyes twinkling with merriment, sighed with sham impatience. "I think the answer to that, Father, is something like…_well, duh!"_


End file.
